Minishemoths and cigars all round!

Today was a day of incredible tension, and for a change it had nothing to do with my workload. I called up the clinic bright and early to find out how Operation Frankenstein had gone, and they said they had to go through the records and call me back. I spent rather a lot of time out back, smoking and pacing, like anyone waiting to hear if they have children or not, I suppose. Well, anyone male. Heh.

And… Operation Frankenstein was a success! It was not all for nothing! I do have kids. (Sort of!) I am a mother! (Sort of!) By which I mean, I have knocked up two chicks, identities unknown, and never even found out about it till nearly two years later? Hmm. There is a name for that sort of parent, begins with a ‘d’…

‘Donor’, that’s the one.

There are no less than three minishemoths loose on the world, it turns out. Wow. ‘Me’s, except, ‘Me’s as raised by Normal people! Imagine! They’ll either be unstoppable or unspeakably dull. Or, I suppose, unstoppably dull. I called my Chestnut-haired Old Mother with the good news. It had rung twice before I realised that, perhaps, ‘Happy Gran-day!’ might not be such good news, but she was well proud and told me for several minutes that I am brave and wonderful. Then she broke off in mid-sentence and yelled – Wait a minute, does that mean I’m a grandmother?!

I dunno, I said. Sort of?

The only thing funnier than that was my Cellmate getting the hump because I am ‘flooding the market with my artificially-created twins and devaluing her Real twins’. It took some fancy footwork and spur-of-the-moment analogies with people dyeing their hair red to imitate Genuine redheads, to get me out of that one. I am on fire today alright!

So that’s me ending the week in an ecstatically good mood, with fake champagne and the cheapest, nastiest cigars (very small amounts of) money can buy. Hurrah! And yet, the fact remains that technically nothing at all has changed since yesterday; only my understanding of the situation. And nothing has still been achieved this week, and you can bet your arse it ain’t gonna be tonight, because I am far too hyper. Go figure.

Now: whose carbon footprint do the minishemoths get entered under? It’s not mine, right?


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in all the small things, inadvertent loonytunes admission, Operation Frankenstein. Bookmark the permalink.

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